


Slumming It

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [54]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Storms, whats a sprace fic without too much banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race convinces Spot to sell with him in Manhattan for a day
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Sprace one shots [54]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/920823
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	Slumming It

**Author's Note:**

> back on my sprace shit!!! ive officially regressed folks!!

“Can’t believe ya decided to slum it across the bridge, Spotty, never thought I’d see the day.”

Race stumbled as Spot kicked at his knee from behind, bouncing right back up and walking backwards in front of the older boy who was scowling, half playful. 

“Yeah, wanted ta see where all them rats come from, ‘cause it sure as hell ain’t from Brooklyn,” Spot replied smoothly, eyes darting to the alley they passed where, to be fair, there were a couple rats rooting through the trash. 

Race waved it off and moved to steer Spot across the street. “Got that all wrong, they all started of in Queens, shit place.” Spot barely smiled and Race continued in a mock-serious tone, “They’se a, whaddya call it, uh kinda thing that- it comes over ‘ven though it don’t belong and-”

“Take ya time.” Spot ignored Race’s glare and bumped his shoulder instead of smiling. 

They were just about at distribution and Spot had a reputation that Race had been making fun of for years, but it was still there. They’d gotten looks on the way over that they both pretended not to see. 

Spot quit the teasing act right when they walked through the gate, and honestly Race was sort of impressed. They only got a few looks, mostly from the littles, and Race thanked god he was scary enough when he threatened all the older boys the night before with everything under the sun if they said shit within a block of himself or Spot. 

Albert grinned a little from his place a few newsies ahead of the two of them but that was about it. Besides Jack, but he was always the exception. 

He’d already bought his papers, hoisting them up on his shoulder as he approached the two, and Race glanced a Spot and saw his expression relax just a fraction. “How ya doin’, Jack?”

“Not bad Spot, you?” 

They shook hands and Race would’ve laughed at the formality if they were alone. “Just fine.”

Jack looked between them with that weird lazy confidence that Race never figured out how he made intimidating, before his eyes landed on Race and lit up. 

“You lettin’ this bum drag ya around all the day then?” he asked, slow enough to be teasing, but Race crossed his arms anyway.

“Yeah, nice ta not have to babysit ‘im for a change,” Spot quipped, cocking an eyebrow when Race gave an exaggerated gasp and laid a hand over his chest. 

“And ta think I offered ya a prime sellin’ experience, from the goodness of my  _ own heart _ -”

Jack smacked Race’s cap down over his eyes and started to walk off, tossing over his shoulder, “Save it for the nuns, buddy.”

Race ignored him in favor of slapping down three quarters, buying for Spot and himself even though god knew the other owed him for about ten years worth of poker games. Weisel took the change and let out a low whistle.

“A whole three quarters, ya sure ya don’t wanna save this? Invest in the stock market?” Weisel got a laugh out of that one, boy was he ugly, and Race let himself relax while he could physically feel Spot tense up behind him. 

He leaned in as far as he could across the counter, resting on his elbows and cocking his head. “Nah, I figure I oughta give it ta you, help ya save up for a mirror ‘cause god knows you ain’t got one if yer leavin’ the house with that mug.”

A chorus of laughs sounded out from behind him and Weisel shoved the papers roughly into Race’s chest, who grinned sweetly back at him. “Always a charmer, thank ya.”

He walked off and headed for the street, whatever Weisel was mumbling cut off by sounds of the city while Race sectioned off Spot’s papers and handed them over. “We can head over to the back side of the park, circle ‘round for a while ‘nd go back over to the bridge afta’ that, yeah?”

Spot nodded and leafed through his papers, pausing to look up and fix Race with a stare. “You always catch shit at distribution?”

It took Race a second to realize he was even talking about Weisel, the guy had been giving them all hell for as long as he could remember, and they’d gotten awful good at giving it right back. 

“Ya mean Weisel? Guess so, it don’t mean nothin’ though, we get ta make fun of the bastard right back.”

Race knocked Spot’s shoulder a little to lighten him up, and Spot knocked him right back. “Yeah, must be nice practice. Y’know I really oughta thank the guy, bet ya practiced a whole bunch’a material on him ‘fore ya bothered me with it, rooted out the bad stuff.”

“Aw, you think I’m givin’ you the good stuff? I’m touched,” Race crooned, “I’ll make sure ta keep it up then, since ya like it ‘n all.”

He let out a yelp when Spot kicked at his shin, catching his toe in a crack on the sidewalk at the same time and twisting to fall flat on his back on the sidewalk. The wind knocked out of him and he heard Spot’s voice, pleading, from above.

“Yeah my brother here, he gets them spells ya hear about from the doctor. One minute he’s up and walkin’ and the next he’s flat on the ground, doc says we gotta save up if we wanna get’im on somethin’ for it….”

Race opened his eyes to see a few people looking down at him with concern, and he forced back his eye roll at Spot’s smug face before letting out a pained whimper and letting his eyes flutter shut again. “It happen again?”

Spot hummed. “Yeah, kiddo, it did. He don’t remember it much when it happens, messes with his brain’n all.”

From barely slitted eyes Race saw sympathetic hands passing Spot a few coins in exchange for a paper, getting a sickeningly sweet ‘thank you’ from Spot as they did, and he waited until their footsteps faded before opening his eyes in a glare and propping himself up on his elbows.

“Been plannin’ on that one for a while, huh?”

Spot reached down a hand and Race took it, hauling himself to his feet. “Nah it’s called improvisin’, you should try it sometime.”

“Thanks fer the tip.”

They both kept a neutral stare for a second before cracking up. Well, Race cracked up, Spot gave something resembling a smirk and shoved Race along to keep walking. “Alright, we’se still workin’, ‘nd I ain’t plannin’ on spending the night so lets go.”

Race nodded, already sidestepping in front of a girl walking toward them and taking off his hat. Spot rolled his eyes in Race’s peripheral and he made sure to sweet talk loud enough for the other to hear. A soft huff was enough for him to know it worked and he pulled back a triumphant grin. 

* * *

By the time the two of them both sold out, Race faster than Spot thank you  _ very  _ much, the sun was long gone. The previously sunny sky had been swept out around two, and black clouds had taken its place. He should’ve listened to Crutch this morning, the kid was never wrong. 

“You still wanna cut out?” Race asked, tipping his head back to get a better look at the sky and getting a few drops of rain on his forehead. “Dunno how long it’s gonna hold off.”

Spot was leaning up against the brickwall of a storefront, the street’s were emptying fast with the coming storm, and squinted at the sky and then at Race. “Don’t feel like gettin’ drenched, ‘sides, I told Blue ‘fore I left if I didn’t come back he’s in charge.”

That was a roundabout way of saying yes, Spot’s specialty really, and Race started the walk back to the lodging house with a nod. They weren’t far, and they both picked up the pace a little when the rain started coming down more, slowly enough, but the raindrops were fat and heavy, and they didn’t have long before it started coming down in sheets. 

“If it wasn’t rainin’ I’d say Jackie’d give us the roof,” Race remarked, hopping off the curb to cross the street, avoiding the small rivers of water already starting to form.

Spot nudged him to the side as a carriage passed in front of them and kept a hand on his shoulder as they kept moving. Race smirked and Spot flicked him. “Wouldn’t be stayin’ if it wasn’t rainin’.”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yes,” Spot replied. His voice was always some degree of firm but Race caught the joking edge on it and rolled with it, conversation floating back and forth easily until they got to the lodging out, not quite soaked through with the rain steadily picking up, but close. 

“Race!”

Jack’s voice carried down the stairs and he jumped down the last few steps, hitting the floor with a thud, startling Albert and Elmer who looked like they were settling in the corner. 

“Was just about ta head out after ya, storm’s lookin’ real bad,” Jack said, fixing Race with a half-worried once over, pausing when he got to Spot. “Hey, Conlon, he convince ya ta bunk here?”

“‘Bout fifty-fifty between him an’ the storm.” Spot took off his own cap and wrung it out, brushing Race’s hand accidentally but getting the other’s attention nonetheless; he was freezing. “Long as you got the room.”

Jack shrugged. “Shit, we don’t got room for me most’a the time, but we’se makin’ it work. Race’ll find ya a place.”

He darted over to the corner then, Albert and Elmer started arguing over who owed who what and he got himself between them, and Race jerked his head toward the stairs. “C’mon, I can get ya a change’a clothes if ya need it.”

Spot shrugged and Race gave him a pointed look, reaching out quickly to graze the other’s arm, pulling back when Spot made to swat him away. “Yer freezin’.”

“‘Course I am, it’s rainin’ in October.”

“And yer soppin’ wet,” Race continued over Spot, starting up the stairs as he did. “I know over the bridge you’se guys spend a helluva lot of time in the river, but ‘round here we don’t bring it back with us.”

“Over the bridge we don’t run off at the mouth so much neither,” Spot shot back, but he followed Race through the bunk room to his own in the back corner. He’d bought Crutchie dinner for a month just to get him to give it up; it had two sides pressed up against the wall and the most privacy you could get sleeping in a room with twenty other guys. It was his pride and joy.

Lightning flashed through the windows and Race passed Spot a spare change of clothes, counting automatically in his head, _ “One mississippi, two mississippi, three…” _

Thunder cracked so hard the walls shook for a second and Race grinned at Spot while he slipped a new shirt on. “Bet yer happy you ain’t getting swept off the bridge right about now.”

“Happy’s one way’a puttin’ it,” Spot said, sitting down on Race’s bed with his back pressed up against the wall, stretching his arms forward until his back popped. Race grimaced and Spot huffed, but he was just barely smiling. “Don’t act like you’se never done it.”

“Haven’t,” Race answered and shook his head, pulling off his shoes and socks and hanging the latter over one the bar between his and the top bunk to dry off. When he looked up Spot had a glint in his eye and Race narrowed his carefully. “What?”

“Lemme do it for ya.”

It took Race a second to remember what they’d been talking about, and when he did a half-nervous smile took over his face as Spot yanked him forward by the arm. “Spot-”

He was holding back giddy, sudden laughter as he struggled against Spot, who was trying to get both arms around his chest. “Stop movin’, it ain’t gonna hurt none.”

Race grunted and managed to get one arm free, and they both wrestled for the upper hand for a moment before Albert walked over and snorted at them and climbed up into his top bunk. Spot finally cut it out and they both flopped back, Race panting and glaring at Spot, who was barely out of breath. 

“Don’t look at me like that, ain’t my fault yer outta shape.”

“Ain’t outta shape,” Race breathed out, “just got caught off guard y’know, keep forgettin’ yer strong what with you bein’ short ’nd all.”

Spot smacked the back of his head at that and Race let out a laugh. He was sprawled out on his back with his head at the foot of the bed and Spot sitting up against the wall at the head. It wasn’t real late yet, but a lot of guys didn’t like the thunder and all that, and they’d either headed into a different room or were curled up in bed already. He was hoping there’d be a card game going but it didn’t look like it.

“You’se guys don’t get up to much ‘round here, huh?” Spot asked after a moment, not complaining, and meeting Race’s eye when he looked up at him. “‘S prob’ly the same back home, half the kids’re little enough to start up cryin’ at the thunder.”

Race nodded and reached under his mattress, pulling out a cigar and a deck of cards. “You got a match?”

Spot lit one and Race leaned over to light the end of the cigar with the other end in his mouth, inhaling deep before passing it to Spot, who did the same. “Wanna play war?”

“Sure, I deal, you always seem to get awfully good cards whenever you do.”

Race grinned at the jab and handed over the deck, sitting up as he did. “I’m lucky, ‘s a curse really.”

“Must be agony,” Spot answered dryly, blowing his smoke in Race’s face and smirking when the other coughed. “Bet tomorrow’s papes I win.”

“Deal it.”

* * *

By the time they were done playing most of the other boys were sleeping and Race was convinced Spot was counting cards. Spot called him a sore loser and accepted the fifty cents for tomorrow’s papers with a grin. Race hit him with a pillow.

Spot had always slept like a log though, and he was passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, laying on his back with Race on his side facing him.

He figured Spot looked awful young when he was asleep, they all probably did, and Race studied his face carefully. Times like this he wished he could draw half as good as Jack, because god knew Spot would never let the Manhattan leader get his portrait down. 

Race shifted a little before shutting his eyes and trying to let the rain pounding on the roof lull him off to sleep. He was so close that when a hand curled around his he barely started, peeking his eyes open to see Spot’s hand around his.

He didn’t pull away, and sleepily let his eyes shut again. Lightning flashed and Race fell asleep counting for the thunder. 

**Author's Note:**

> its been m o n t h s since i wrote these two together!!! i hope i didnt fuck it up!!!!
> 
> kudos/comments are always appreciated and hmu on tumblr @dying-poet if you have any prompts or fic ideas,, love yall thanks for reading<3


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